The Wolf King Read Free

unwashed flesh was a vile reek in the stonewalled corridor. He’d never encountered any human quite so aromatic, even in the slave barracks where men went for months without washing.
    It giggled again and reached a filthy paw toward the woman.
    He was just getting over the shock of hearing he had a wife, but he instinctively interposed his body between this thing and the woman. It turned toward the monk with the wax light and chuckled horribly.
    “He says he’s her husband?”
    “Yes, my lord abbot,” the gatekeeper answered obsequiously. “We should honor the sanctity of the marriage bond as Christ…” The porter spoke gently, slowly, as if to a child.
    “Abbot?” the woman whispered. He found he was holding her hand; it tightened on his own.
    The creature turned away from the gatekeeper and began to try to pull the bearskin away from the woman’s body. A thread of drool ran down from the corner of its mouth to the chin. The mucus glistened in the light—the light coming from behind them.
    Something smashed into the side of his face. He felt her hand pulled free of his as he lost control of his body and went down. The back of his head struck the stone floor of the corridor; his vision dissolved into flashes of light.
No
, he thought.
No
. Twisting, he tried to fight off the stunning effects of the blow and regain control of his arms and legs.
    Someone screamed. A woman.
    He had a moment’s sorrow that he couldn’t have offered her better protection. He was still struggling, but couldn’t feel his arms and legs; and when he could, it seemed only a few seconds later—he found he was tied hand and foot and being dragged along the corridor feet first, his head bouncing uncomfortably along the cobbled walkway.
    “My lord, I beg you…”
    Everything was black as the bottom of a well. He wondered if he’d been blinded by the crack on the head… but no. It was just dark because he could see a little.
    “My lord!” The old man who’d opened the gate continued to remonstrate with his captors.
    “Drive that fool away!” The command came from the one he’d heard addressed as abbot. “Drive him back to his cell. I don’t want this one to get away.” The creature sounded like a peevish child.
    “You know, you know how I love to hear them scream. You can hear them for a long time afterward. After we drop the slab some of them go on all night, screaming and screaming and screaming.”
    She was not as frightened as she ought to have been. This was her first clear thought. She’d awakened when he pushed his hand down her dress. She’d believed for a moment, for a joyous moment, that he was her husband taking familiar liberties while waking her from a nap. But that happy, carefree moment quickly faded.
    The other memories were a jumble. He was carrying her. It was cold, oh so cold. He was saying insulting things. They were dragging him away, down the hall. Now three women appeared, coming out of the darkness. One carried a candle, but she could see them all clearly. She must see well in the dark, she thought.
    They were questioning her, tugging at her clothing, trying to get her to accompany them.
    “Is he really your husband?”
    She felt an odd sense of dislocation. The questioner was an older woman. She seemed respectable enough in her brown mantle and linen veil. She smelled of soap, perspiration, and wine. The other two stank only of drink. They went unveiled and their gowns were shapeless and none too clean. They walked in such a heavy aroma of alcoholic deterioration that she wondered how they managed to stay upright. She was sure they had both been drunk almost constantly for months.
    One was dark with lank, greasy hair; the other might have been a blonde but she was so filthy it was impossible to tell anything about her original appearance.
    “Is he your husband? Really your husband?” the older woman asked again.
    No.
The idea, for a number of reasons, was ludicrous. But she wasn’t about to tell